The Seven Uses of Whipped Cream
by xxtheoneyoudreamaboutxx
Summary: In the spirit of V-day, a fanfic author decided to combine Fluff!, Crack! and whipped cream to bring you this delicious seven course meal. May contain traces of Lime, Logan and green MMs. MA centric, infrequent sexual references.
1. CREAM

_Summary:_

_In the spirit of Valentines, I chose to combine fluff, crack! and cream in this special 7-course meal. Verry Fluffy, funny and creamy.  
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_M/A-centric. May contain traces of Lime, Logan and green MMs._

_Warning: infrequent, inexplicit sexual references.  
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_Disclaimer: I do not own Dark Angel, any of it's affiliates, charactors or episode names. I just added some cream for non-profit fun and games. This is done without the intention to offend anyone, or harm the integrity of the television series.  
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**The Seven Uses of Whipped Cream.**

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_**C.R.E.A.M.**_

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Manticore alumni were not trained to celebrate, to organise dinner parties or attend movie nights. It had just never seemed important enough to Lydecker or the other handlers to incorporate it into the schedule. Some of the transgenics, however, fuelled by Max's encouragement to be free, happy and human, had taken it upon themselves to organise family fun events for their fellow residents of Terminal City. They didn't always get it right, but at least they had fun trying.

Alec was still smirking at the announcement of the latest event:

ALL TRANSGENICS WELCOME TO THE

CHICK and POT –LUCK

Bring your own!

Dinner or Dessert

To share and be merry!

The only catch was the Max had roped him into helping her cook a dish to bring, as their contribution to the sharing and being merry. Apparently, it was the honourable thing to do as leaders of Terminal City. In order to maintain Max's strangely good behaviour, Alec made sure to buy everything on the list she had prepared for him. He had been volunteered for the special supply run to collect one bonus special item per transgenic. It was for the holiday cheer and a rare treat; it brought happiness and hope to the group of mismatched mistakes and ex-military equipment. So, that was how Alec found himself inside the post-pulse wall mart with Cain, one of the other X5s, and a basket on his arm; looking much alike to a pair of metro stay-at-home dads.

Alec smirked at the look etched across the cashier's face, as she clearly wondered what the pair of them was planning to make out of ham hocks, pixie sticks, wasabi, tartar sauce, whipped cream and chocolate rice-pops. Not to mention all the other odds and ends on the transgenic wish list.

An hour later, the young alpha male was standing outside Max's TC apartment; holding their bonus items and a few things he had managed to rustle up from the kitchen warehouse. Max's choice item of pleasure was a box of chocolate fudge mix, so, of course, Alec's was the large spray-can of whipped cream. He sighed, prepared himself for the worst, and knocked on the door.

He was surprised when it didn't explode or even hiss at him, instead it opened to reveal Max in her gym outfit; her excitement glowing slightly, from beneath the Manticore mask.

"There you are." She said simply, allowing him access into the small main room of the apartment. He put the hodgepodge of treasure on the bench that walled the small kitchenette, before obeying Max's order to

"Hurry up and wash your hands, Alec. We don't have all day." Max was already putting odds and ends into the large bowl on the counter, while reading the instructions on the packet mix. There were already a couple of decorative clumps of flour in her chocolate-coloured hair.

"What do you want me to do?" Alec offered his assistance, smirking at the scene before him. Underneath the mask of self preservation, it wasn't a smirk of mockery or ridicule, but a smile induced by the incredible cuteness of the woman before him. What can a poor fanfic-author say? He was completely whipped, just like the cream. Still is, I hear.

Max instructed him to play fetch with different utensils, cooking equipment and ingredients as she poured, stirred and somehow conquered the battle of the chocolate fudge. So, half an hour later, as the bowl of gooey brownness sat congealing in the refrigerator, Max and Alec sat, exhausted, on the floor of the kitchenette.

"Whipped cream while you wait?" Alec offered; a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Max raised an eyebrow, before grinning and swiping the spray can out of his hand. Turning it upside down, she applied her transgenic strength to do what she was born to do: squirt whipped cream into her mouth, until it was dribbling down her lips. Swallowing, Max turned and looked at Alec innocently, offering the can back to him. Alec swallowed, bidding the images in his head to run away and play with the fairies, leprechauns and everything else that only exist in dreams and fantasies. Pulling his Manticore mask down further, and wishing it was long enough to cover not only his emotions but his unbidden excitement as well, Alec smirked back, wiggling his eyebrows at how _inappropriate_ Max looked. So Max rolled her eyes in jest, and squirted cream down his transgenic nose like war paint. Alec narrowed his eyes and glared at her before grinning evilly; inflicting Max with the torture of tickles. She squealed, swatting him and pulling away; giggling and laughing. Alec chased her; the whipped cream can left discarded on the floor.

He caught up with her in the bedroom, pushing her backwards onto the bed; straddling her and tickling her mercilessly.

"Stop it!" She squealed between fits of laughter, "Alec, stop it! Get…off…me!" she gasped out, before she managed to exert enough strength to roll the transgenic male over and under her.

"Gotcha now." Max grinned, as she avenged her poor, tickle-worn body. Alec laughed, as her fingers worked their evil magic against Alec's shirt. He let her abuse him for a short while before flipping them back over. Unfortunately, he did not remember where the end of the bed was until they landed on the floor with a resounding _thwack_. Max groaned; lying next to him on the floor, sore and laughed out.

"Sorry," Alec whispered, sheepishly, as he propped himself up to look at her. There was a moment when time stood still, and their eyes caught each others. Then, Time started to mist, and melt in giddiness as Alec's lips crashed softly against Max's own; tasting her and the white, fluffy goo still covering them.

Max's heart flutters as she lies there, trying to catch her breath before it runs too far out of reach. She hoped with all her transgenic heart that this meant her secret, unbidden feelings were not unrequited. Alec just smirked and licked the remainder of the whipped goo from his lips.

"Thanks for the cream, Max."

t.b.c in _Some Cream Required_.

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_**COMPETITION!!-**_

_**In the spirit of whipped cream and valentines, I have decided to incorporate a small game into this fic. In your review, write the name of a movie or four. Instead of one of the words in each movie title, supplement with Cream, Whipped or Whipped Cream.**_

_**EG: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets = Harry Potter and the Cream of Secrets.**_

_**Or**_

_**She's the Man = Cream the Man, She's the Cream or She's the Cream Man**_

_**The funniest entry by my judging, and a guest judge, will win the opportunity to read the next chapter a day early. All entries will be mentioned in the next post. Closes this time tomorrow (2pm by Sydney time zone, which is about 7pm in USA, i think...). Within two hours the winning entry shall recieve a PM with the next chapter, for their enjoyment. :)  
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_**Next Chapter will be up the day after, and if this goes well, I shall repeat the competition with the next chapter. **_


	2. Some Cream Required

A/N-- CREAM CONTEST--

Winner:: Live Free or Die Whipped by THMARTH

Other Entries: Wanted: Cream, Star Wars: The Whipped Cream, Star Wars: Rise of the Cream.

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WARNING- This chapter contains heat. Nothing explicit, just the same old references and induendo. If anyone feels this is not rated correctly, let me know, but I feel T is adequet.

**_Some Cream Required_**

Manticore's quick fix for the heat cycle wore off all too soon. Suddenly, one rainy Seattle afternoon, she was itching to be scratched by any man with the essential working parts. Unfortunately, Max did not realize the exact nature of her condition until it was too late and before long she was found herself between a rock and a hard man.

And so, Max's hormone-induced cravings were abated in the usual way: by some random dock worker she had run into, not too far for a transgenic to swim from Terminal City's secret fishing spot at the end of one of the old industrial drain pipes.

It was late and quiet, when the young transgenic woman woke up in the strange wharf-side make-shift apartment; naked and splattered in tomato sauce. After a pause to wonder where the sauce came from and to carefully untangle her body from the sheets, Max tip toed around the moon lit room in search of her missing garments. To her dismay there was nothing besides torn pieces of cloth that smelt suspiciously like fish oil and tomatoes. There were not even any of the dock worker's clothes- apparently this wasn't the luxury bachelor pad he went home to in the evenings.

In an effort to restrain herself from unleashing Max**Angst**!™ upon the bitter world and reviving her grimy host from his painfully pleasant slumber, Max concentrated on finding the best temporary alternative to clothes available. The sheet was unfortunately not an option- what was not trapped beneath the hunk of sleeping man flesh was unsalvageable. The only option left was to search the bathroom and kitchen quarters, Max decided before beginning a disappointing quest for some piece of large cloth or tarps. Finally, she gave in and opened the refrigerator. There, standing alone and naked in the small glow from the blue light bulb, was a can of whipped cream.

_At least it's not tomato sauce_, was all Max allowed herself to think as she wrinkled her nose and followed Eve's lead. If only she had some large leaves.

She crept out into the darkness, spray can in hand, and scurried towards the water. It took her less than ten minutes to swim to the mouth of the pipe which served as both a gateway to TC and prime fishing spot. Max prayed to the Blue Lady that all transgenic eyes were shut in sleep or at least in some other part of the city as she reapplied her cream-loin cloth and crept through the murky tunnel…

Alec was wondering around the deserted streets, half-asleep and fantasizing about killing Logan with only a large fish and a bottle of tomato sauce, as he walked back to his apartment. Alec had only just awoken after having fallen asleep on the Paperwork Mountain in his office, deciding to finish the night in a nice warm bed.

The sleep-muddled thoughts drifted towards the fun things he could do with… and whipped cream when his fantasy walked out of his dream and crept across the road ahead of him. Alec blinked, shaking his head in awe. He really did need to find that bed as soon as possible.

**_Borrowed Cream_**

Max was craving cream. She did not know why, she did not know how and she did not know what jelly shots were. All she knew was that her Manticore-made body was whack and that she was craving whipped cream like it was nobody's business.

It may have had something to do with new medication she had been prescribed to deal with the infection she'd caught down below. Equally, it may have had something to do with the dreams she had had for the rest of her heat cycle before it ended a few hours ago.

Either way, Max needed whipped cream. Unfortunately, the TC kitchens were out of stock. Alec had also run out of whipped cream, not that he knew she'd ransacked his apartment while he was asleep in his office again. There did not seem to be any whipped cream anywhere; not even unwhipped, whippable cream. And, alas, the poor poster girl for Freak Nation and the Transgenic Rights could not just go down to the nearest wall-mart in the middle of the night.

Max only had one option. She did not like it, but a soldier does what a soldier needs to do. So, she creped through the shadows and tiptoed in the dark towards her One Last Hope.

Victorious, Max smiled as she stood in the glow of the small fridge. She held her prize in her hand, savoring the feel of it before she up-ended it and filled her mouth with its creamy goodness. This transgenic was in heaven.

Or not. For in heaven, Max would have been free to eat all the whipped cream she desired without fine, interruption or cake. But, on the far boarder of Terminal City, she was not in heaven.

"Max?" She was in Logan's apartment. Logan danced up and down like an aggravated anime character, as she continued to devour all of his precious whipped cream.

"Max!?" The man said, louder, rousing Max from her cream. He could have sworn he heard that deep throated, growly hiss that cats make when he stole their fish scraps in search of evidence for Eyes Only.

Max's eyes went large and innocent as she looked up at him from where she sat on the floor. Putting the can back on its pedestal in the fridge, right next to the tomato sauce, she hung her head in shame.

"I'm sorry, Logan. This was the only place that wasn't out of whipped cream." She told him, quietly. Logan raised an eyebrow beneath his mega mathlete glasses that he thought made him look more intelligent.

"Max, it's three in the morning. If you wanted to spend the night with me, you only had to ask." He informed her, certain that she was using the whipped cream to tell him what she really wanted to do with him.

"Logan, I'm serious. I just needed whipped cream." Max replied; rolling her eyes dramatically. This dweeb was a serious idiot, she realized.

"Max, baby," Logan smiled, knowingly, as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You don't need to pretend. We've wasted enough time, just come to bed." That was enough to send a shudder through Max, as she reeled in disgust.

"I'm not your baby, Logan. I've already told you it's over. Besides, I'm still infected by the virus, remember?" She snapped, her hand reaching for the whipped cream again. It was her source of comfort, in awkward times like this. Logan shook his head.

"I found an anti-virus. I'm immune." He clapped happily, grinning like a child presented with a bag of green MMs. Logan really loved those green MMs.

"Max, please just drop the act and come screw my ordinary brains out. It won't kill me, see?" He poked her bare skin with his finger a couple of times to prove he was telling the truth.

"We're in love, so let's do something about of it instead of continuing this silly little dance. I know you're scared but we can work this out, if you'll let me in." As Max gritted her transgenic fangs and tightened her fingers around the can, Logan prodded at the wound; oblivious to the Max's threatened-cat like demeanor.

"Logan," Max bit out. She felt unwell, as if she could taste green MMs in her mouth. Max really hated green MMs-that was one of the reasons she knew it would never work out between them.

"Leave me alone. We can't work this bitch out because I'm not your bitch anymore- I never was! I'm sorry, but it's over." She repeated, feeling as if she was talking to a wall or insolent child. It was just as well she wasn't talking to a wall or a child, because that would be plain creepy. Max may be a lot of unconventional things, and she may have doubtful taste in men sometimes, but she was not the sort of woman or transgenic that had romantic relations with inanimate objects, such as walls. Unlike Mole who fell in love with a pot plant once, but that is another story.

Logan shook his head, repeating "It's not over," before leaning forward to violate Max's cream coated lips with his own, causing Max to squeal in disgust. Instead of using her transgenic strength to put the smack down on Logan's skinny, white ass, she pulled away, raising the whipped cream as she moved and sprayed the man in the eyes. Logan let out a high-pitched shriek of agony as his eyes were express-posted to hell in a cream-filled wicker basket.

"I told you to leave me alone, Logan," Max sighed, and skulked away into the shadows to cry alone.


	3. Borrowed Cream

_**Borrowed Cream**_

Max was craving cream. She did not know why, she did not know how and she did not know what jelly shots were. All she knew was that her Manticore-made body was whack and that she was craving whipped cream like it was nobody's business.

It may have had something to do with new medication she had been prescribed to deal with the infection she'd caught down below. Equally, it may have had something to do with the dreams she had had for the rest of her heat cycle before it ended a few hours ago.

Either way, Max needed whipped cream. Unfortunately, the TC kitchens were out of stock. Alec had also run out of whipped cream, not that he knew she'd ransacked his apartment while he was asleep in his office again. There did not seem to be any whipped cream anywhere; not even unwhipped, whippable cream. And, alas, the poor poster girl for Freak Nation and the Transgenic Rights could not just go down to the nearest wall-mart in the middle of the night.

Max only had one option. She did not like it, but a soldier does what a soldier needs to do. So, she creped through the shadows and tiptoed in the dark towards her One Last Hope.

Victorious, Max smiled as she stood in the glow of the small fridge. She held her prize in her hand, savoring the feel of it before she up-ended it and filled her mouth with its creamy goodness. This transgenic was in heaven.

Or not. For in heaven, Max would have been free to eat all the whipped cream she desired without fine, interruption or cake. But, on the far boarder of Terminal City, she was not in heaven.

"Max?" She was in Logan's apartment. Logan danced up and down like an aggravated anime character, as she continued to devour all of his precious whipped cream.

"Max!?" The man said, louder, rousing Max from her cream. He could have sworn he heard that deep throated, growly hiss that cats make when he stole their fish scraps in search of evidence for Eyes Only.

Max's eyes went large and innocent as she looked up at him from where she sat on the floor. Putting the can back on its pedestal in the fridge, right next to the tomato sauce, she hung her head in shame.

"I'm sorry, Logan. This was the only place that wasn't out of whipped cream." She told him, quietly. Logan raised an eyebrow beneath his mega mathlete glasses that he thought made him look more intelligent.

"Max, it's three in the morning. If you wanted to spend the night with me, you only had to ask." He informed her, certain that she was using the whipped cream to tell him what she really wanted to do with him.

"Logan, I'm serious. I just needed whipped cream." Max replied; rolling her eyes dramatically. This dweeb was a serious idiot, she realized.

"Max, baby," Logan smiled, knowingly, as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You don't need to pretend. We've wasted enough time, just come to bed." That was enough to send a shudder through Max, as she reeled in disgust.

"I'm not your baby, Logan. I've already told you it's over. Besides, I'm still infected by the virus, remember?" She snapped, her hand reaching for the whipped cream again. It was her source of comfort, in awkward times like this. Logan shook his head.

"I found an anti-virus. I'm immune." He clapped happily, grinning like a child presented with a bag of green MMs. Logan really loved those green MMs.

"Max, please just drop the act and come screw my ordinary brains out. It won't kill me, see?" He poked her bare skin with his finger a couple of times to prove he was telling the truth.

"We're in love, so let's do something about of it instead of continuing this silly little dance. I know you're scared but we can work this out, if you'll let me in." As Max gritted her transgenic fangs and tightened her fingers around the can, Logan prodded at the wound; oblivious to the Max's threatened-cat like demeanor.

"Logan," Max bit out. She felt unwell, as if she could taste green MMs in her mouth. Max really hated green MMs-that was one of the reasons she knew it would never work out between them.

"Leave me alone. We can't work this bitch out because I'm not your bitch anymore- I never was! I'm sorry, but it's over." She repeated, feeling as if she was talking to a wall or insolent child. It was just as well she wasn't talking to a wall or a child, because that would be plain creepy. Max may be a lot of unconventional things, and she may have doubtful taste in men sometimes, but she was not the sort of woman or transgenic that had romantic relations with inanimate objects, such as walls. Unlike Mole who fell in love with a pot plant once, but that is another story.

Logan shook his head, repeating "It's not over," before leaning forward to violate Max's cream coated lips with his own, causing Max to squeal in disgust. Instead of using her transgenic strength to put the smack down on Logan's skinny, white ass, she pulled away, raising the whipped cream as she moved and sprayed the man in the eyes. Logan let out a high-pitched shriek of agony as his eyes were express-posted to hell in a cream-filled wicker basket.

"I told you to leave me alone, Logan," Max sighed, and skulked away into the shadows to cry alone.

A/N-- I appologies for the hiatus... I've been stuck on a chapter since valentines- and I swear I thought all the previous stuff was posted! On the brightside, if you review you can have the next chapter really soon :) oh, and *cupcakes*


	4. Cream Comfort

Alec was shirtless; watching his boob tube and eating whipped cream when the door bell rang. Quickly turning the TV off, and hiding his guilty pleasure inside the fridge; Alec opened the door to find a surprisingly ruffled Max holding his leather jacket.

"You left this in the office." She said simply, holding it out in offering without mentioning that she'd stolen the cranberry gum from his pocket. (It is a universal truth that you should not leave things in your pockets if you don't want a transgenic to eat them). Alec accepted it with a raised eyebrow so high that it got lost in his hair. Gesturing for her to come inside, he held the door open for her.

"Come inside, Max. You're shivering, and you look like you could use a decent cup of coffee. Coincidently, I was about to make a pot, and I can't drink it all by myself before it goes cold."

Max nodded in reply and walked meekly inside. She sat, quietly on the battered couch; staring off into space. Alec raised an eyebrow as he watched her from behind the counter. He pulled the jug off the heat instinctively as it started to boil, his eyes still on Max's detached expression. He poured the cups before walking around towards her, passing one over as he sat down beside her.

"Max," Alec started, hesitantly. "What's eating you?" He gazed sideways at her, but Max continued to sit, almost unmoving. She muttered something incoherent.

"Max," He repeated, turning up the volume, "What's wrong?" Max's gaze still didn't move from the distant spot on the floor. She absent mindedly sipped the brown liquid from the mug in her hands. Alec was glad they were transgenic and not the Roswell aliens, if only because her mood and concentration could inadvertently send everything flying around the room or bursting into flames if they were. For that matter, he was also glad she wasn't Alex Mac.

"I'm as fine as a burlesque queen." The young transgenic muttered, eliciting a sad sigh from the usually happy-go-lucky man beside her.

"Because," Alec finished for her, "it's the perfectly happy, well adjusted women with great lives that end up in the world of prostitution and exotic dancing." He took a sip of his cup as he watched the gloomy, haunted look in her eyes that seeped around the edges of her Manticore mask.

"So, whose ass do I have to 'lay the smack down' on?" He asked, knowing well who the most likely candidate was. But then, in their crazy clown-fest of a life, it was hard to know what would go wrong next.

"Love sucks." Max muttered looking up at Alec before gazing away again. Alec smiled, cheekily.

"Well, if you get me cupid's address and all the paper work needed to get there, I'll show the little bitch a better use for his arrows," Alec joked, and Max smiled in spite herself.

"You know Max, you have a beautiful smile." He informed her, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. "So, in order to keep it from running away and hiding again, I'm going to make you the perfect little pick-me-up."He stood up then, and walked back towards the kitchenette. Alec looked around, scouting the place for supplies, before walking towards the door.

"I'll be right back- don't go anywhere." He said with a grin, as he left. It was only a few minutes to the make-shift communal pantry, and a few minutes further to the small 24hour grocery store a few blocks from one of the more concealed exits to Terminal City. Within ten minutes, he had all the necessary supplies to bring cheer to even the bitchiest, up-tight transgenic.

"Hullo, again, Maxie." Alec forced a cheerful demeanor as he reentered the apartment to find the beautiful transgenic still looking like someone had run away with all of Mother Nature's colored crayons and forced the world into shades of gray.

Placing the fruits of his labor on the bench top, Alec whirled into action creating a happy masterpiece and decorating his t-shirt with sticky wet substances simultaneously. Groaning under his breath, he pulled his shirt over his head and discarded it on the floor.

Alec set the place of waffles topped with cream and surrounded by little cream-topped strawberries on the floor in front of Max before placing two cocktail glasses full of chocolate, whipped cream-topped, pudding. There were also a couple of glasses of beer, and an extra box of Whittaker's Chocolates for good measure. Max looked up.

"Surprise." Alec supplemented at her blank look that he knew masked confusion.

"It's just a little treat I whipped up." He finished, with a mock bashful smile. Max continued to stare at him as if he had chocolate pudding on his face. _Oh, wait, _He thought in realization as he wiped the brown spot off his cheek.

"Hello? Still there? You can stop staring now, Max," Alec smirked at her, waving his hand in front of her face, "come on, I'm transgenic- I learnt how to play piano in two days- why is it so strange that I can cook?"

Max looked away, sighing despite the small smile beginning to appear on her face. It was far from pasta and pre-pulse chardonnay, but it was beautiful.

"It's only strange that you would care enough to cook for me." Max admitted, shamefully. As well as she hid the bitterness that tinged her voice, Alec noticed. He moved over so that he could slide an arm around her shoulders.

"That hurts, Max," Alec said sarcastically, "I thought you would have realized by now that I ca- Oh, crap, I'm sorry," he swore as realization hit him like a big, blue minivan, "I should have thought. But, if it means anything, I only got your favorite beer- not a fancy wine."

Max paused to swallow and slow down the crazy trains of thought running around each other in her mind. She looked up at Alec and gave him a small but honest smile.

"Alec, it's perfect. Thank you." Max whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder. She picked up the remote and pointed it towards the plasma TV Alec had long since scored for himself.

"Do you have any good movies?" She suggested.

--

After running out of home-creamed goodies, the couple had progressed to eating straight from the spray-can. It was times like these that Max and Alec would thank their superhuman metabolisms if they were not otherwise distracted, as the movie credits rolled down the plasma screen unnoticed in the background.

"Want some?" Max offered, holding out a cream-topped finger. Alec nodded, opening his mouth without moving closer; his eyes wide with innocent expectation. An amused smiled was almost unnoticeable in the corners of Alec's eyes. Max smiled pleasantly in return, slowly moving her finger towards him as her other hand reached for the can. It was only at the last moment, with transgenic speed, that Max pulled away; sucking the cream of her finger herself and spraying cream into Alec's open mouth.

Alec smiled in delight, but as he moved to swallow Max rethought the move. He paused as she leant towards him, her lips crashing into his own still caked in white foam. Tongues tussled for the taste of cream for a long moment before the need to breath finally overcame them. Alec was surprised; Max had never seemed the type to act the way she was acting now. Maybe it was the alcohol spiking the cream.

Alec looked up to see Max smirking at him, one eyebrow raised in questioning amusement at his stunned reaction. Laughter was tugging at her pouty, transgenic lips as she slowly and deliberately licked off the cream covering them.

"Thanks for the cream, Alec." Max returned his line, teasing; her mocking smirk softening into a friendly smile. Alec wondered if he had ever seen the look of contented happiness grace her features before- it was definitely one he would love to see more often.

Max's gaze became more thoughtful as she watched him, almost as if sizing him up. Alec gave her a questioning look in return, before Max smiled again playfully.

"You know, Alec, you really need to shave." Her fingers brushed his rough cheek, as if to make a point. Max bit her lip in a brief moment of careful calculation before she lifted the can of whipped cream again. Spraying his face to create a fluffy white beard, she grinned.

"There you go."

Alec laughed, before pulling on a more serious expression. He reached for a previously discarded straw, fiddling with it slightly before starting to use it like a razor blade, dragging it along the curve of his cheek. Within moments, Max was laughing, bringing Alec down with her until they were both almost hysteric with how ridiculous it all was.

Alec paused for a breath, trying to calm himself down. After his breathing had regulated a little, he smiled. His eyes found hers as a look of pure adoration graced them.

"You know, Maxie," he started as his fingers grazed her cheek ever so slightly,

"It was never about the cream." And then he finished with a kiss.


End file.
